


Bracing Point

by planningconquest



Series: Tired Agents [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Double Agents, Rebels, Spies, criminal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planningconquest/pseuds/planningconquest
Summary: Spies are personable and agreeable, and hate the fact that their targets get into more trouble than they can handle. Also, gossip magazines have a better intelligence network than most intelligence agencies.





	Bracing Point

The worst gossip magazines in the galaxy could always be trusted to be wrong on anything that didn’t matter, and terribly close to right on things that did matter. As was the case for the headlining article from the piece of garbage called “Imperial Galactic News” not to be confused with “Imperial Galaxy News’ which was a reputable newspapers that operated out of the Imperial Center. 

If reputable meant that even the best of it’s written articles were published with a pro-Imperial slant. 

Whenever these two publications had an article that was similar or agreed, every spy in the business paid close attention. 

At the moment, the spies working for the ISB, five separate Grand Moffs, eight Senators, and three genuine readers, had bought that entire stock of “Imperial Galactic News” from a previously struggling new-stand. The owner had cottoned onto the fact that the spies would buy out his stock of gossip rags, and was thus the only person who sold them within a 200 mile radius of the senate dome. 

Every other news stand had too much pride to carry the gossip rags, and would be too embarrassed to be selling them to spies. Since the spies didn’t want to travel very far for information when they knew it was pretty close, most of them spent their lunch breaks, or pretend lunch breaks, reading the magazines and gossiping 

Tonn loved it, and could see the spy he knew belonged to Lady Tarkin, already ambling down a nearby staircase. The spy for Isard’s dangerous brother, was already pretending nonchalance outside a cafe.

Since he knew today’s article would make each spy either die of second-hand-embarrassment, or die of laughter, Tonn felt that it was alright if he opened a bit early. 

As soon as he pushed up the partition, he caught sight of a spy who worked for Vader. She had a nasty habit about appearing from nowhere, but she tipped well so Tonn didn’t complain. 

“The usual?” Tonn asked, already sliding a copy of the “Imperial Galactic News” across the counter. 

‘You know it,” she winked at him, and eyeballed the Tarkin spy as he wandered up to the news stand. “You’re alive? I didn’t think you’d make it past your last assignment.” 

“Fuck off,” the man groused, slapping his money on the counter and waiting for Tonn to pass him his copy. “Didn’t think you’d make it past yours. Didn’t you fall off a cliff?” 

“I sure did,” the woman gestured arily as she opened up her magazine, “not a fun time. Thankfully there was a lot of snow beneath me.” 

“Snow?” Tonn watched the spies seize each other up, “I didn’t think there was a lot of snow there this time of year.” 

“I think she’s talking about the drug,” Tonn interjected as the less spies milled around casually in the distance. “You fell on a pile of snow?” 

“Yep, went into shock. Had to be airlifted out of there. It was no fun. Nothing like a face-full of drugs up your nose.” 

“Damn,” the man whistled and opened his magazine. They both ready silently for a few minutes before lowering their magazines and looking at Tonn. “Are you sure this is today’s article?” 

‘Yep! I got my shipment this morning. You know I like to keep if pure for you guys.” Tonn didn’t dare squirm on their collective gaze. It would make him look guilty. He grinned and held up a third copy that displayed the the truly garish title that had startled them both. “You don’t want to read about an article about,” he looked down at the page, “Darth Vader’s Young Male Companion? In an article that heavily implies that the fellow is a call-boy.” 

Vader’s spy, who liked to be called Sugar, looked more and more shocked the longer she read. Lady Tarkin’s spy, had he been drinking or eating anything, probably would have been choking on it. Their reactions stirred enough curiosity among the other spies, who rushed his stand en-masse. For the next twenty minutes he sold every single copy of his ‘Imperial Galactic News”, except one. He held it back for rebel spy who would make an appearance a few hours later when the Imperial spies had all cleared out. 

“So,” he leaned over his counter at Sugar, “thoughts?” 

“Welp, someone is going to die probably.” Sugar told him seriously. 

“I don’t think Vader would have a prostitute, even one as cute as this.” Lady Tarkin’s spy, affectionately called Cream, looked at his enemy. “Seriously, remember when someone offered five million to whoever managed to seduce him? Look how well that turned out.” 

“I remember, do you know how awkward it is trying to get people to stop trying to seduce your boss? It is so awkward. Then he comes up and he like, “what the hell is going on here?” and I’m like, oh, nothing, they just want to get into your pants for money.” 

“This is a good picture, this kid looks expensive. I doubt he’s an actual prostitute. Probably some poor...what are you looking at, Sugar?” 

“Me,” Sugar was holding her magazine close to her face, and seemed to be peering at the picture of the suspected prostitute. “Nothing! I just, this kid seems a little too young, you know.” 

“Not really, he looks like he’s about twenty” 

“Too young for the Master and Commander,” Sugar told Cream, “way too young. I have seen him flirt, however badly, with only one person ever.” 

Tonn leaned closer to the agents, who graciously ignored his terrible eavesdropping. 

“The firefighter from Udon. I remember.” 

“Everyone remembers her. She was hilarious, a regular human riot. I think every empty apartment in her building got rented out by different spymasters.” Sugar leaned against the newsstand and grinned at Tonn. “Everyone keeps tabs on anyone my boss finds interesting. Him flirting meant that she got 24 hour surveillance by eight different people. I’m pretty sure the ISB still has a set-up there too.” 

“Isard is paranoid. She’s a firefighter, not a social climber,” Cream snorted. “I wish she had been a little more of a social climber. I would have liked to stalk one of their dates.” 

“You and me both, anyway. Anyway, this kid is too young for his tastes. If he’s even got tastes. I mean, the firefighter was the exact opposite of this kid. A woman, black, tall, muscular, and a much nicer smile. Heck, she was even a little bit grizzled. I don’t think this kid has ever needed to shave.” 

“And what kind of a name is Poonie anyway? Who’s parents hate them enough to give them a name like that?” 

“His apparently.” 

“I doubt that’s his real name anyway.” 

“I doubt that he’s a prostitute. Person of interest definitely, but not a hooker.” 

“Even if he came in on Madame La’Rones arm?” 

“Even then.” 

The spies looked at Tonn who was reading his own copy of the magazine, but flipped to another article. “I thought it was some grade A bullshit. I bet that was just a poor kid who said something at the wrong time and Vader was giving him a talking to.”

“I don’t think he scolds people.” 

“He might,” Tonn said, “one sassy kid might not need an execution, but you box his ears and then the brat might shape up. If it’s the Dark One doing the boxing, I’d sure never open my mouth again.” 

“I can’t stand to hear him get angry and not just because he gets angry and deadly,” Sugar said, “he gets weird. Honestly, when he does it, he guilt trips better than my own mother.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Cream found another article of intrigue. 

“I have a question,” Tonn said, catching their attention. “If you guys are all so smart and you’ve got networks in places I’ve never heard of, why bother to come here?” 

“Easy,” Cream said, returning to his article, “no spy agency is half as good as a gossip rag. You think you know what’s going on? Nope, those guys at the magazines do though. Damn good thing they never try their hand at spycraft or at real journalism. They’d put everyone out of business. Hell, if my employer though that they could hire some of these people from this; I’d be out on the street before you could sing a ditty.” 

“Sing a ditty? Grandpa, no one says that anymore.” Sugar had begun to highlight pieces of the article she thought would be relevant. “But he’s right. We’re good, but gossip rags are better. I’d hate them for it, but I’d never get articles like this. Which, is definitely has some information in it. Gotta figure out what is true and what is drama and you get a solid case or a lead. 

“Alright,” Tonn gestured to the other spies that were hanging around the street, “I’ve got my morning rush of house-spouses about to come down the street for their cooking and indoor gardening papers. Care to scram?”

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Sugar and Cream said at the exact same time and they wandered off, their noses buried in their magazines. 

A few hours later, when he was out of his indoor gardening magazines, dangerously low and the cooking papers, and making brisk business with selling the cheat smut novels he reserved for the grandmas who bought them between sheets of stitching patterns; the rebel agent finally made an appearance

“Any left?” Tonn knew their cover was as one of the remaining few infrastructure repairmen employed in the lower levels, and he was covered in soot every time he saw him. There was a reason he didn’t tell the Imp agents that the rebel came by in the afternoon. There weren’t enough infrastructure repairmen in the lower levels as it was. Since the rebel agent worked to keep the entire city planet from plunging a few miles into surface, which would kill a few billion, Tonn gave him a discount on his magazine.

“Just one, saved it for you.” 

“Thanks so much,” the man gave his usual grim smile and passed over the necessary coin as well as a lavish tip. “I appreciate it.” 

“Thanks for keeping me from dying in a planet wide collapse,” Tonn handed over the magazine, “busy day?” 

“There’s some serious structural damage down on Quad 6, that’s why they’ve been having so many shakes. I don’t even know if we can fix it if we don’t get the money and supplies. If we don’t we may have to condemn the whole quad.

Tonn bit his lip, “what can I do to help?” 

‘The donation box is open,” the rebel agent said tiredly, turning to his magazine, “as always, we’ll accept them from anyone. You know, for a much money as he has, I’d like to see Vader donate some money. God knows he could keep my department rolling in cash for centuries.” 

“Right,” Tonn was disappointed by the lack of reaction in the rebel’s face. Of course, he was usually too tired to react explosively to anything. “You going home?” 

“Probably, same time next week?” 

‘Same time next week.” Tonn agreed. 

#$#$#

“I am not a prostitute,” Luke Skywalker belated, sinking down as far as he dared in his chair. The collective glares of the Rebel High Council did nothing to alleviate his burning embarrassment. “I wasn’t even dressed like a prostitute. I looked perfectly respectable. Blue was there.” 

“Even prostitutes looks respectable sometimes,” Mothma said severely, “and you cannot expect us to think that you dress, and even your presence was something that your intended to be anything other than promiscuous.” 

Luke opened his mouth and shut it very quickly. 

“When Lord Vader spoke to you, what did he say?” 

“That I was wasting my talents in my current occupation,” Luke said. Madine groaned and covered his eyes and sighed. Leia looked on the edge of a conniption fit. “I didn’t reveal any information on the rebellion. I mean, there was no harm done.” 

“Except that a Jedi was sighted!” 

“It was not I !” Luke exclaimed, “I was injured. I told you when i returned that I thought Blue was a force sensitive and all you did was ship her to the Core. If she’s force sensitive then don’t you think she ought to be learning the force too.” 

“If she is force sensitive or not, is not our concern,” Mothma interjected severely, “the true legacy of the Jedi is who sits before us; apparently in the gossip magazines!” 

“No one could have pegged me as Luke Skywalker,” Luke defended, “as far as anyone is aware, Poon Denore the Third is a real person! We could use this!” 

‘Exactly what we need,” Madine said, still not looking up at him, “our Jedi masquerading as a hooker.” 

“Then make the fake ID,” Luke said slowly, as if to explain to them how stupid they were, “and make Poon Denore a model. Madam LaRone takes handsome models places. It won’t be that strange.” 

“Skywalker,” Madine did look up now, looking desperate. “We cannot have you discovered by VAder and we certainly can’t have you discovered by Vader under the guise of a model. Can you imagine the embarrassment for the REbellion? Not only that, but it would be personally embarrassing for you as well.” 

“I’m not embarrassed,” Luke said, “ I think it could work. Models go all sorts of places and all sorts of parties. I can’t pretend to be an Imp officer.” 

“If you wanted to do this,” Mothma finally seemed to be caving, “you would need to take an escort with you at all times. Not a spy escort, but a backup who could get you out of any sort of mess that you might get yourself into. Not only that, but I know that IMperial officers are not gentleman when they’ve begun drinking and believe that someone may be an easy target.” 

 

“Oh, I know.” Luke had been leered at plenty often over the last party that he knew how officers behaved. Excluding Vader, of course. Despite being, well, Vader, he had been close the gentlemanly behaviour.

“I will speak to our new agent about it,” Mothma promised, “one who has not yet had the,” she paused, “opportunity to work with you before.”  
“Yes, ma’am,” Luke said quietly, and wondered what Vader would think of the public's take on their last interaction. 

#$#$#$##

Vader had thought himself above something as plebeian as shock. Surprise was also an unwelcome guest as he opened a report from an agent stationed near that Senate Dome. It was a very delicate report, that made a few pointed remarks and careful conclusions about a recently published gossip magazine. 

He would have to execute the editor, Vader decided as he read through the truly tasteless article. The implication that Luke was a call-boy, beside the hint that Vader had hired him for the evening; was enough to make him want to put blood on the walls.

His agent knew exactly who had been with him that evening. Which she noted by offering two options the rebellion might use. 

First, they might scrub the record and keep Skywalker away from the limelight in the future. Second, they might want to use the already established identity to get information at a later date. 

Considering Mothma’s habits and Skywalker’s personality, Vader had the unpleasant feeling that he was going to run into his son again. 

“Sir,” he waved Agent Tea into the room and handed over the report. As she read, he could sense her growing dread. “My lord,” she said carefully.

“There is no point in explaining further,” Vader dismissed her words easily. “Surely Skywalker will make another appearance under this new guise of ‘Poon’ and we shall apprehend him then. Now, why did the rebellion send you back to the Core?” 

“I don’t know, my lord. Commander Skywalker reported that he believed that I was force sensitive. Less than an hour later I get orders to head toward the Core for long-term surveillance. I know that many people think I am force sensitive, which I am not, but separating one Jedi with a considered possibility seems odd. If you don’t mind me saying, my lord, I believe that the rebellion may be isolating Commander Skywalker. Not from his pilots, my lord, but from other Jedi and force sensitives. I do know that he’s never met the Specters; despite the fact that the Specters are Jedi in their own right.” 

“Indeed,” before the discovery of his son, Vader would have never brainstormed rebellion strategy with his agents. As it was, their unique perspectives had offered him brand new strategies and excellent ideas. 

“I can’t even begin to think of an idea why the rebellion would keep their Jedi isolated. It doesn’t make any sense to me. If he were to learn from Jarrus and Bridger, he’d be stronger and more-trained enough to give you a work-out, my lord. He’d be dangerous, even more than he is now. Also, he’d be more networked among the other rebellion members. So far, a lot of their number seem to think that he is nothing but a legend. If he isn’t a legend, then he’s a monster. He scares a lot of rebels, my lord. That, Jedi-ness about him, it keeps him aloof and seperated. And.” Tea stopped. “That’s why they are doing it.” 

Vader, having only come to that conclusion a few seconds before Tea, nodded his agreement. 

“Why though. It leaves him dangerously untrained.”

“It leaves him open to whoever they choose to teach him,” Vader said.

“Unless you get to him first, sir. You are,” she hesitated, “planning on capturing Skywalker, at some point.” 

“That remains to be seen,” Vader told her. “As he is now, Skywalker is still a mere object of curiosity. From your perspective, what sort of Sith would he make?” 

“A Sith? Someone like you?” 

“Yes.”

 

“Ah,” She rocked back on her heels, “he wouldn’t, he couldn’t do it. You would literally have to kill him.” 

“That may be the case,” the Sith watched an uncomfortable expression move across the spy’s face. “Continue your work on Imperial Center,” he ordered. “You will receive information you may pass to your rebel commanders.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“And if Skywalker will be out and about in the galaxy in such ridiculous disguises, there must be agents trained to deal with his particular brand of ridiculousness.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Prepare a list of agents who would be qualified to train with me. We will begin the basic of handling of Jedi trainees and their favored agents. Also, summon Commander Cody, he will be required to write the training manual. Then, find a promising cadet from any academy and have them transferred here.”

“To train?” VAder turned to her, and Tea got the vaguest sensation that Vader was thinking she was an idiot. “Yes, sir, anyone specific?”

“A cadet with a lengthy disciplinary record, and rebel-like attitude. Someone who may wash out soon. They will fit best with the rebel alliance.”

“Yes, sir.” 

 

“Dismissed, Agent,” Vader watched Tea make a break for the door, and turned to the viewport to consider the possibilities in the future.


End file.
